The Thieves of Ghaladesh
by Dalektopia
Summary: The past always comes back to haunt as old enemies return upon the market planet of Ghaladesh. Everything seems fine in preparation for the Festival of the Eternal Night but once the Doctor investigates, he finds that there is something more than the dark people have to be scared of. People are disappearing, political leaders are dying and the night is fast approaching.
1. Prelude To Darkness

**Chapter One: Prelude to Darkness**

Ghaladesh: the largest planet in the Fifth Great and Bountiful Human Empire; the center of trade between two galaxies in the 90th Century. A megaearth with sixteen moons and it's own orbiting sun, it is by far the largest planet humanity had colonized. A long time has passed since the first people set foot on Mars. Since the last light was put upon Pluto; since the gas giants were used as testing facilities and destroyed; since the first men and women stepped foot on Ghaladesh itself, over 500 years has passed and humanity has spread across the stars into seven different galaxies. Humanity has created, and destroyed. Waged wars and caused extinctions. The Dalek/Cybermen/Human Wars were a major point. Ghaladesh was an important part of the war between the ruthless metal men, the robotic exterminators of life and the feeble flesh bags.

The planet was large with a sun which orbited around it, instead of the other way around. Ghaladesh also had massive amounts of minerals and resources sought after by the Cybermen and the human race sought to protect. Minerals such as gold which was the ultimate enemy of the Cybermen, and elements such as naturally made Dalekanium, the usually artificially made armor casing of the Dalek, were abundant upon the surface. It was crucial the humans took it before their enemies did, to mine the planet and use its resources against the enemy. It was total war. The Great War for Ghaladesh lasted for over three hundred and fifty one years, spanning several generations, Cyber-Converts and Dalek Squadrons. Three hundred and fifty one years the humans fought back against hordes of Cybermen and Daleks. Even then, the humans were in constant need of assistance. Deals have been made with the Sontaran Empire in order to help with the war, ending up with the Sontarans siding against the humans and trying to take the planet for themselves.

During the last ten years of the war, the Daleks used any means necessary to win Ghaladesh, to the point where they tried to destroy the planet and harvest the remains. They used tactics never before seen by the humans, using spies and massive war machines. The Daleks truly lived up to their reputation in the final years. The Cybermen as well were as ruthless and cruel, converting any form into living metal. They too, shared the Dalek's plan to destroy Ghaladesh and reap its burning corpse…

* * *

"Obliterator Cannon primed!" the staccato, rigid voice of a Dalek shrieks in the dark, dreary depths of the Command Ship, "Atron Continuum at 89% efficiency. Daleks in formation; enemies trapped upon the surface…"

A Dalek, with its bronze armor casing reverses from the control panel from which it stood in front of. The dimly lit, barren structure of the room looked dark, save for the deep yellow and shining blue lights of the Dalek's eyes. It moves slowly towards its superiors, the white, bulky armored Dalek Supreme along with other high ranking Daleks perched upon ascending pedestals. The Supreme looks down, as if in disgust at the lowly Dalek moving up towards it. It stops a few meters from the pedestals.

"Speak," the Supreme booms monotonously.

"We are ready!" the Dalek shrieks.

"Then ready the fleet. Total extermination of Ghaladesh shall commence in ten Rels!"

"I obe-"

Boom. All the Daleks suddenly shriek in dismay, wondering what had happened. Every audio and visual receptor in the room suddenly flare up. The Supreme looks down at the Dalek that was once in front of it, only to find it in a pile of wrecked pieces and blood. Then, the booms of marching: the ominous sound of metal crashing upon metal and the sound of pneumatics moving up and down. The Supreme looks at the room in front of it, its receptors scanning every form of detail until it sees something: one single tiny spec that revealed an entire platoon. A platoon of invisible Cybermen. From atop its pedestal, the Dalek seems to fire into nothingness, until a screech is heard and the photo negative image of a metal man somehow appears into reality.

"All Daleks shall use immediate Thermal visual scan!" the Supreme booms directing its subordinates, "The plans shall go into effect. Voice recognition activate, open fire immediately when primed!"

Outside, the cannon primes.

"All Daleks will be deleted; Ghaladesh is ours." a black face plated Cyber-Controller booms, striking upon a red Drone, ripping off its eyestalk and blasting its body into pieces.

Mechanical systems and electrical wiring zoom from every corner of the disk shaped ship into a single, central point, concentrated at a finite matter converter, turning the electricity into a concentrated beam of antimatter. It moves onto the dark grey planet below, focusing on its equator.

"Systems locked and primed! Fire!" The Supreme's deep staccato voice erupts from the ensuing conflict, "Destroy Ghaladesh!"

The ship dies down for a second, earning the relief of the Cyber-Controller deep within its mechanical mind. Then a huge eruption of energy, the electrical sound even destroying the laws of physics, creating a sound within the vacuum of space. The dark, insidious ray of antimatter cries though the emptiness of space, kilometer after kilometer every nanosecond until it hits the planet's surface. The Cyber-Controller looks on as immediately the crust is stripped of any life, whether human or Cyberman. It cries out in anguish, something unheard of for a Cyberman. It turns towards the Supreme.

"You will be de-"

A white hot blast sears its metallic flesh, the Cyber-Controller's photonegative image lighting up the dark, inflamed room as more and more Cybermen lie dead by the Dalek's doing. While on the planet below, Ghaladesh is being burned from the inside. The antimatter beam drills deeper and deeper into the planet, destroying anything and everything in its path.

"Total obliteration in three hundred Rels!" the blue cased Dalek Strategist purrs as it fires upon the last Cyberman, "We have mere moments until ultimate victory!"

"Yet it is not meant to be," the yellow Dalek Eternal muses, eyestalk taut and looking at the planet below. "With the antimatter cannon, we are not able to harvest what is left of Ghaladesh. Antimatter will destroy anything in its path; nothing shall stop it."

"Ghaladesh is not of great importance!" the Dalek Scientist retorts, its domed head turning towards the yellow Eternal.

The Supreme stares outwardly upon the burning planet below. Billions of tons of raw material going to waste and perhaps even a secret metal or weapon that will win them the war. Ghaladesh was burning and deep within the Dalek's mind, it knew what must be done. The Supreme turns, its bulky Dalekanium casing moving swiftly towards a control panel behind it. The other high ranked Daleks stare as their leader creates slight, minute adjustments.

"Beam density decreased!" the Supreme booms.

"Energy levels restoring to main engines!" the Eternal shrieks, albeit confused.

"Cannon is offline!" The Strategist resounds the Eternal's confusion. "Explain! Explain! Explain!"

"The Scientist is incorrect," the Supreme purrs, in a defeated tone. "The Daleks need Ghaladesh. We need the planet in order for us to continue in this war. We shall use the humans and the Cybermen. We shall temper time itself. The fate of Ghaladesh shall be put on hold, my Daleks. We shall sink into the darkness and be revitalized anew."

"This is against all Dalek belief!" the Scientist rebounds.

"We are pure and blessed Dalek. We shall use the ravages of time and the resilience of man. Mankind shall be allowed to colonize the planet and until then, we shall destroy them."

"Why?"

"Humans shall mine the planet dry. Once we have done so, we shall obliterate all life upon the planet, and harvest the fruit of their labour. We have already given them access to the deepest and rarest of minerals via the Obliteration Cannon. From there, we shall wait."

"There is a large chance that they shall be ready to destroy the Daleks…" the Eternal muses once more, "If they are left unattended…"

"Then we shall be patient," the Supreme's voice echoes through the room, the other surviving Daleks disintegrating the remains of the ambushing Cybermen and the fallen Daleks, "We shall wait until mankind has recolonized and darkness envelops the planet."

The Supreme lowers its eyestalk, turning off the Obliteration Cannon. It turns to join its fellow Daleks, turning outwards into the massive infinite glory of space. It looks upon the ravaged planet below. Somehow, there were escape pods already jettisoning into the darkness and rescue droneships arriving to pick them up like infants to a mother. The staccato voices of the Daleks within the control vessel still resonate within its halls. The Cybermen had tried to hijack the most powerful Dalek ship this side of Skaro and they failed. The Supreme muses at the thought. If it had emotions, it may as well laugh about the futility of the lesser species. It focuses then upon the droneships moving about the planet's orbit.

Humans were resilient. The Dalek Supreme was there at the very beginning of the war at the very front lines. It led its armies into battle upon the planet, attacking human bases and destroying everything. It was massacre after massacre and yet the humans still fought on, using any means necessary to fight the enemy. They would make good Daleks. The white cased Dalek twitches its eyestalk as a droneship silently turns outwards into deep space. There were human Daleks once. Its databanks recall the four chosen by the Emperor itself. The Cult of Skaro. But they died the remnants of a long forgotten war. Humans would make excellent Daleks, but their emotions keep them from being what they truly are. Mindless machines designed to kill others. That is what the Daleks were and the Supreme itself was content.

Yet it still felt that primal urge that emotions were needed. This contradicted everything that the Daleks stood for. Emotions were not needed if one was to be the Master Race. Yes. The Dalek Supreme saw fear upon the eyes of a father turned soldier as he stepped up to it. He had fear upon his face. He knew he was going to die as the Supreme exterminated him in a searing white hot beam. The Dalek Supreme knew sadness in the form of a mother cradling her dead child. It knew the tears on her face were not of joy but of pure anguish. Perhaps it did her a favor by destroying her as well. The Supreme also knew hatred. Upon the eyes of many as it hovered over the filth that were its enemies. It destroyed them, their hatred fueling them to destroy it. The very same hatred that Daleks were bred, nurtured and knew. It knew it was an emotion. Every emotion was wiped. Somehow the Supreme was agitated by the notion but also content.

The Supreme stares as the last of the droneships exit the gravitational field around Ghaladesh, others moving downwards to investigate any sign of life, some moving about the gaping mass that now went through the planet. The Supreme twitches its eye nervously as one of its own droneships exits from the hangar and onto the planet below. Everything must be in place for the stratagem to unfold. It moves its dome towards the Eternal on its right.

"We shall retreat. A battalion shall stay in cryostasis and keep watch as the humans rebuild." The Dalek Supreme booms.

"Understood," The Eternal purrs. "The estimated time for the humans to do so is five million two hundred thousand seven hundred and eighty Rels."

"Then by then, we shall return and the planet shall be ours! The Daleks shall always have victory."

"But what of the Doctor?" the Scientist objects, "What of him? What shall be our course of action if he investigates?! He has destroyed our plans before; what shall we do when he uncovers the stratagem?"

The Doctor. The Predator. The Destroyer of Worlds. The Oncoming Storm. The Dalek Supreme knew of him. He was there at its birth, when the Daleks knew they truly had victory over him. Across the stars the Time Lord had his alias written in the blood of millions of people, planets and galaxies. He was the only one who can truly stop the Daleks and their plans. The Supreme had a sort of admiration for that. It knew that the Doctor will show. To the Dalek, every move the Doctor made would be one step closer to his demise. A king had his pawns. He should use those pawns to their every extent. The Supreme knew it had its armies and it knew the Doctor had his allies. It knew that the Time Lord had the power of all of Time and Space, from the very beginning to the very end. And the end of the Doctor is near. The Supreme searched its databanks.

Upon the fields of Trenzelore, at the fall of the Eleventh, silence will fall when the question is asked. The Supreme muses. The Doctor will fall, that it knows well and the Daleks shall be the ones waiting for his arrival. But the silence. The Daleks knew perfectly of what the Silence were and the movement it stood for but it was indefinite how such a movement can fall when one question would be asked. Question upon question poured into the Supreme's head, keeping it still as the command ship blazed off into a different part of the universe, leaving Ghaladesh to the 'victors' as its orbiting sun brings night upon the surface for one hundred years.

"We exterminate him."

"Understood, Dalek Supreme."

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**My first actual, serious Doctor Who fic, and I tried to make it completely canon! I wanted this to fit somewhere before Asylum of the Daleks; before they got their memories wiped by that little girl that keeps on dying. But other than that, this is something that includes most of the monsters that we've seen as Whovians!**

**Daleks!  
Cybermen!  
Sontarans!  
Vashta Nerada!  
A touch of Weeping Angel.  
A hint of Silence...  
And a new monster, one that I have devised to destroy all life! No, not Omega or Sutekh.**

**So please do read and review this first chapter and I'll be back with more! As soon as I update the other ongoing fanfics that I have...**

**With warm EX-TER-MIN-ATIONS!  
-Dalektopia, Supreme Dalek Overlord of All**


	2. Current Events

**Chapter Two: Current Events**

The infinities of Time and Space whirred by somewhat in like a tubular motion as within the Vortex a tiny blue box spun. The non linear ravages of the outside world barely grazed the object as it zoomed in and out through the many corridors of Time, the "what-could-have-beens" and "what-never-weres" were all bypassed by the whirring blue box. The light atop the twentieth century Police Box glowed eerily in the shifting blues and reds of the outside world, if one can call it that. The glowing windows peered out into Time itself yet the seemingly wooden structure still stayed intact and within the box twiddled the most reclusive and mysterious denizen of the Universe.

The Doctor.

He stared blankly at the deep orange of the TARDIS' main console. He was bored, something that should never happen to a man who had the entirety of creation at his fingertips. Yet it had. The Doctor, the last of the almighty Time Lords, was bored. It's been only twenty something minutes since he had last seen his current companions, dropping them off at their home upon Earth. Earth...Earth! It might have been The Doctor's favourite planet but through all the years he has existed, all the faces he had went through and all the things he had witnessed, he had just about seen everything that humanity and the planet they currently inhabit had to offer. From corsairs to gunslingers; mad monks and masters. Planetary invasions, deaths and genocides. The Loch Ness Monster, Yetis and lizard people. All of that had passed. Basically, humanity had gone stale.

The Doctor runs a hand through his hair, his weary ancient eyes still staring out into the walls of the TARDIS console room and through the doors leading out into infinity. He sighs a remorseful, longing sigh. He stands up from the stairs that led up to the centre of his magnificent ship, and up to the main console itself, gently tapping upon the central tube that went from its floor to the ceiling.

"You okay, girl?" The Doctor smiles cheekily.

The only thing that granted a response was the groaning of the TARDIS engines. That in itself made the Doctor happy. He was the pilot of the ship, as well as her constant companion. The Doctor giggles at the thought, though deep within he still felt a bit of sadness.

"You and me, eh? Across the vastness of time and space. You and me always."

The engines groaned in response, a bit happily in The Doctor's ears. He smiles a warm, ecstatic smile, glad to find at least something to keep his mind busy. He reaches for a knob upon the console, in hopes that it will pilot the TARDIS somewhere brilliant and overexciting. Maybe a trip to the remaining Sunlight Worlds to spread the word of their "philanthropic" Dalek saviours? A stroll across a populated star? Another visit to The Library, perhaps? Or maybe...an explosion. An explosion: the violent and sudden release of energy. An explosion rocks the TARDIS, causing the thousand year old Time Lord to hold onto the console knob as hard as he could, almost tearing it from the circuitry. He hangs on for his dear lives, twisting and turning as his wonderful blue box spins out of control. Quickly trying to crawl onto the console, the lord of time flips a random switch, hoping it will do something.

Mariachi band music starts playing. The Doctor rolls his eyes, wondering why he had even put that button there in the first place. Yet through all the wreckage, The Doctor was still thinking about two main things. One: What caused the explosion? And two: how can he survive an exploding, crashing TARDIS? He yells at the console, expecting something to happen.

"Gravity stabilizers engage?!" The Doctor yells again, "Anything please, just fix this!"

A hologram appears, that of a very old and dangerous foe. The Doctor yelps as the hologram seems to stay on the floor, which to the thousand year old Time Lord, was now the ceiling. The Cyberman looks at The Doctor with a cold, blank stare, its hollow eyes staring soullessly into the denseness of The Doctor's.

"Voice interface activated," the Cyberman blares out in its rough, mechanical tone.

"No! Nonononono! Out of all the things in the universe, sweetheart, you had to get a Cyberman?!" The Doctor aggressively screeches at the crashing TARDIS.

The Cyberman morphs into an older, deadlier foe.

"Awaiting orders," the Dalek Supreme booms.

"Argh! Get me someone I like! Not the things I don't like!"

"Awaiting orders, sir," a Sontaran's voice shouts.

The Doctor looks up to see the holographic image of Commander Strax, the Sontaran who had died at Demon's Run but was now reborn in Victorian Era London. The fake Sontaran looks up at the Doctor and gives a salute. The Doctor rolls his eyes.

"Close enough now increase hologram density by 250% and revitalize the gravity stabilizers!"

"Sir."

The Sontaran moves towards the console, flicking a simple switch which returned the gravity to normal. The Doctor crashes onto the floor with a thud, the TARDIS around him still spinning out of control. He quickly turns to the holo-Strax, putting his hands onto its shoulders. He pats its head.

"Okay now I've only done this once and it seems that we're running out of people. Can you generate erm...let's see...four more voice interfaces? This time people I can actually cooperate with? More or less? And with hands. Yes. Hands are good."

"Yes, Sexy."

"Strax, don't say that!"

"I am the voice interface. I am not Commander Strax, sexy."

"Stop! Ugh only MY TARDIS can say th-...Just use another image to say that word! Just not Strax, or a Cyberman, or a Dalek!"

"Me, then?" a sweet, curious and overly excited voice rings out.

The Doctor stares at the blonde standing in front of him. He gulps, fluttering his eyes and fixing that ever stylish bow tie. He smiles awkwardly.

"Uhm...I'm a bit married so..." The Doctor stutters. "But just generate the others! I need extra hands for this! And can you generate another person, this time preferably WITH clothes?!"

The Doctor focuses on the console, working buttons and wires, springs and knobs. He looks up to find the five other "people" he was going to work with until the TARDIS wasn't crashing. Madame Vastra swiftly pulls a lever as the humanized Dalek Sec pushes several buttons. To their respective rights and lefts were Winston Churchill, The Brigadier and as always, Commander Strax. The Doctor grits his teeth, cursing heavily under his breath as the TARDIS around him spins out of control through the infinities of Time and Space.

"Sec raise that Atron Respirator," The Doctor calls out. "Winston type in the password to the main console, Madame Vastra I'll need you to turn off the Huon and Neutron flows but before you turn off the latter please reverse the polarity. Strax, push random buttons until they work and Brigadier my old friend I'll need you to hold down a few keys and let the Eye of Omega blast this baby with all the fuel it needs!"

The Doctor finally presses a glowing green button, causing everything to stop simultaneously. The holograms immediately disperse into this air as the TARDIS lands somewhere in the universe, escaping the Vortex and onto wherever and whenever. The Doctor zooms towards his console screen, checking the outside world.

"Air quality normal," he mutters to himself. "Radiation levels none? Indigenous species are...humanoid. Close but no plexar on that one. Main threats are...dictators and mad men and rabid animals. That's nice. Size of the planet...whoah. That's...that's as big as Rigel 4. That's impossible unless...location and era? Show the location and era!"

The Doctor's eyes widen, his mouth dropping. That quickly turns into a grin, smiling and laughing as if everything that had happened prior to this was a mere bump in a long journey. To him, that was basically the case.

"Ah! Ghaladesh!" The Doctor grins, his voice ecstatic. "The powerful and mighty planet of Ghaladesh in the equally powerful and mighty Fifth Great and Bountiful Human Empire! The gateway between twin galaxies!"

He starts to move towards the TARDIS doors, the grin still plastered onto his face. He continues talking to himself, as if a large crowd had gathered around him.

"The world of wonders where everything is about money and wealth, where the sun itself revolves around the world! The birthplace of leaders like King Claudius Maximus George Imperatus Caesarino the Eternal Holy Emperor of New Romanova and the Four Chapels of Fazalon...aka Steve and President Matthew Arthur Roosevelt O'Donnell who is destined to change the universe by creating the first ever probe that can land upon a neutron star!"

The Doctor exits the TARDIS, the sun above blasting rays of brightness onto the Doctor's face. The ancient machine had landed safely in a well lit alleyway. He smiles cheerily, letting everything soak up into his ancient body. He inhales deeply and exhales as such, taking in all the smells of Ghaladesh. And the noise. The Doctor hears something. Something totally unlike Ghaladesh, the busiest planet of all. Silence. Dashing to the alley's opening, he widens his eyes, looking around him to find no one. Nothing. He looks back and all about his magnificent blue box, trying to find any sort of life. All the shops are still open. Food that had been in preparation still were on stoves burning. He looks around in confusion.

Then a gunshot is heard.

The sound rings out through the market, the eerie silence having been cut like a heated knife through butter. The Doctor's eyes widen, trying to pinpoint the location of the source of the gunshot. He scans his surroundings, opening his mouth and tasting the air. He makes a disgusted face, and heads down the main road to who knows where, only guided by the minute traces of gunpowder.

"Odd...twenty centuries onwards and people still use guns," The Doctor grumbles, straightening his bow tie.

* * *

"_Today is a new day! Today we break free of oppression from the madmen and the dictators that plague our great planet! We are here to reestablish the ways of old; to revive the lost art of democracy! No longer will we stand in fear of those who have torn down Ghaladesh! Today we put our foot down as civilians and the common people_!"

A well dressed man looks out to the billions in front of him, in front of his granite podium and his weary, brown eyes. He smiles wholeheartedly, his mind content as the masses cheer.

"_We are all human, so why don't we be humane? If not, then who are you to call yourself a true and respected human being? Dictators of this world, I advise you surrender, to end all hostilities with the citizens of this world. Alfred Heinrich Von Histler of New Arya. Il Sung Park of The State of Great Korea. Osama Bin Fadaar of the Thirteen Countries of the Sands. We ask that you sa-_"

"And that was when he was shot."

"Shot?"

"With a 21st century weapon..."

"Odd. It's always odd how the times of old always catch up with the present."

The darkened room illuminates with a red tinge, the sounds of a billion screaming people filling the ears of the people in the confined space. The hologram pauses at the moment the shot is fired, the bullet whizzing right into the skull of the President. President Matthew Arthur Roosevelt O'Donnell. Dead and paused in time, in the eyes of men watching.

"Well we can't change that. All we need to do is to replace and find the perpetrator."

"But who has a gun these days..."

"A man from the past perhaps?"

"No, a man with the power over time and space."

"A man with the power over time and space? Impossible."

"With a man who dies and dies again, who will die one final time."

"With a woman who waited for the longest of times, for her madman to take her to the stars."

"And another who reappears and returns. Dying and living on through time and space. She will answer the greatest of questions. The oldest and most devious of questions. She will be there with the man. The man who shot the President."

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

**Well second chappie and our favourite Time Lord appears and...he's just been sucked into yet another plot. Let's keep this silent for the time being. ;)**


	3. The State of Good Order

**Chapter Three: The State of Good Order**

"_He comes closer to it_."

"_Let him be, Consul._"

"_He should fall sooner_."

"_As let it rise upon us?_"

"_It shan't if it is sated_."

"_It is insatiable_."

"_With every silence comes darkness. If we destroy that epicentre, there shall be no reason for it to arise_."

"_Do not worry. He shall fall._"

* * *

The raggedy man shuffles through the desolate streets and alleys of the Grand Marketplace, the largest in the galaxy. The entire continent spanning over three hundred million kilometres being made up of nothing but markets and vendors were empty, something the thousand year old man has to figure out. And the gunshot. The Doctor sticks out his tongue, quickly turning a corner and into a narrow path in between two buildings. He stops, catching his breath, his body leaned up against alien brickwork.

"Ugh...hah! Haha! Argh this takes me back to the first Olympics...hah," the Doctor pants, his tongue still out like a worn out dog. "So the trace of sulphur and charcoal...a hint of glycerin...a Colt Revolver shot coming from the end...hah...of the dark, narrow alleyway with a somewhat weird curtain covering it. I don't like it, but it's worth looking into. Okay."

The Doctor moves, shaking his head, running a hand through his milk chocolate brown hair and finally straightening his bow tie. He cheerily smiles as if he was looking at himself at a mirror as he continues down the alley. Every step he took, it seemed like a constant buzzing echoed through the alley. He raises a curious eyebrow until the buzzing suddenly turns into screaming, as if someone had quickly turned up the volume on a radio. Tortuous, agonizing screaming. He covers his ears as the light at the end of the alley shines brighter and brighter, leading to what seemed to be a rather large opening with a balcony at the end.

He raises an eyebrow once more as he inspects his surroundings amongst the screaming. If he could, the ancient man would hush the crowds to be quiet. He looks around, trying to find where he was. He sees ornate vases still filled with drinkable water as proven by a Sonic Screwdriver being flailed around actively. The high frequency beams of invisible wavelengths of sound interact with The Doctor's surroundings, telling him where he was. He was at a pretty palace. Well, a pretty palace that was in front of the screaming masses. The Doctor takes a step in front of him to greet the crowds, only for his leg to be caught in something eerily soft and squishy. His eyes widen. He trembles. Slowly he looks down as he comes face to face with a man. A man with a gaping wound upon his head. The masses yell and scream in outrage.

"Okay so I'm in a palace, that wasn't an ordinary alleyway...and I just stepped on a dead man's chest..." The Doctor cringes. "Not the best of days."

"Got that right, mate," a voice calls from behind the Timelord.

The Doctor turns to meet the suave, young, accented voice that caught his attention, only to meet a sudden burst of electricity surging through his body, zooming through nerves at breakneck speed, crippling every muscle in his body. He lets out a groan before he collapses onto the ground, his vision blurring before he could make an image of the man who may or may not have shocked him to death. A few decibels of ominous crackling wafts through The Doctor's ears before unconsciousness takes over, taking him to a land of darkness.

* * *

"The Timelords approach!" the staccato ring of a Dalek's voice blasts over the sounds of explosions and gunfire.

"Emperor arriving in thirty Rels," Another shrieks. "Skaro Degregations in motion!"

"The Cruciform shall be ours," a much deeper, almost baritone voiced Dalek booms. "Supreme Dalek initiate Phase Twelve. Total extermination of the Arcadians shall commence! Show no mercy as the Timelords watch. They shall see the folly of their work."

The immense, bulky Emperor's outer shell hovers over the dead, bleeding corpses of the fallen Arcadians. Their lifeless eyes stare up, shining at the sight of the Dalek's eyepieces and exhaust ports. An entire platoon accompanies the massive creature as they weave their way across the war torn wastes of Arcadia's capitol. The Emperor turns its massive dome left and right, witnessing the true potential of his race. The people, the planet, and the stars above all burning in the Time War and he saw it fit to his liking. He had created all this and with the power of the divine weapon, not even the Timelords would stop him. He would become invincible. He would be a god. The God of all Daleks.

"Supreme Dalek, initiate Phase Thirteen once Rassilon reaches the Cruciform," the Emperor booms, turning its head towards a completely black coloured Dalek. "Destroy any Timelord standing in your path."

"Yes, Emperor. I obey!" The Supreme shrieks.

"Alert! The Doctor has been sighted!" A Dalek shouts.

"Seek, locate and exterminate!" The Emperor retorts, "Release the Degregations upon the planet. Watch as the Timelords fail to stop me, the God of all Daleks, from achieving ultimate victory!

* * *

He quickly opens his eyes. Well, more or less. It was a groggy awakening as he lazily tries to move his body, every muscle torn and agonizingly unfit to move. The Doctor winces in pain, a jolt of agonizing wretchedness stinging his chest. At least he was still alive, but in a very dark and damp room, a complete contrast to where he was before. And at least it was much more quiet. The hum of some distant machine echoes in the dark, a few blinking lights flashing, breaking the darkness. The Timelord cringes once more, his body aching from the searing amount of electricity he experienced a while ago. He didn't even know if it were only a few minutes ago or days. He shakes his head, still wondering where he was.

"Mate, you are in a hell of a lot of trouble," a smooth, almost sultry male voice echoes in the dark, a contrast to the blatant humming of machinery.

The Doctor can only mumble a response. Mumble? Why was that? The Doctor thinks about this and realizes his mouth was taped shut. Guns and tape. Prehistoric compared to when and where he was now. He makes a move to release his mouth, to no avail. His hands were tied.

"No use, mate," the voice mockingly says. "Without lasers or any of that stuff, you can't get through that rope."

The Doctor mumbles something incoherent, his eyes rolling in the dark. He blindly tries to reach for his coat pocket.

"Anyways, lemme introduce myself," the voice sighs. "I'm basically your judge. You've committed quite a crime, mate. Killing off the president. Too bad, too. He was gonna bring peace on Ghaladesh."

Kill the president? What was this man talking about? The Doctor mumbles another incoherent sentence, his mind racing, his hearts beating much faster.

"Yep. President O'Donnell was going to end all dictatorship on this place. Put an end to them Alphas. He said he was going to stop terrorism and do it nonviolently, getting his motives from a guy named Mohandas or something like that. He said he was going to stop Histler from detonating the Neutron Bombs, stop Il Sung Park from launching missiles. But I guess every political leader says things like that but y'know...Matthew Arthur Roosevelt O'Donnell was the only one to make me actually believe that he was going to do all that. But now, he's dead."

President O'Donnell? President Matthew Arthur Roosevelt O'Donnell? The one who was going to change the course of human history? Dead?! And The Doctor had the finger pointed at him for it. The Timelord silently slips his tied hands into his back pocket, the chair he was sitting on not making much use of helping him. He groans, trying to pull out the one thing that may save him. He sees silhouettes in the background, what little light now reaching his ancient eyes.

There was the shadow of a man sitting upon a chair, his shining eyes set upon The Doctor, staring coldly into the depths of his ancient soul. The hums and buzzes of the many machines around them soon revealed themselves as the light adjusted to the old Timelord. He mumbles, his hands fiddling with something. The man stands, the metal chair he sat upon creaking as he rises, towering over The Doctor, a device within his hand. He holds his hand against The Doctor's forehead, another to his own. He grumbles slightly as his patient struggles in his restraints, his mind having been tampered with. The Doctor himself hears his silent screaming, his brain seemingly being torn apart from the inside, the man's own consciousness driving into his own. He tries to scream, the man drilling deeper and deeper into his mind.

Within the Timelord's subconscious, he can start to see his invader's image. Little by little, particle by particle, the image of a tall man forms with deep green eyes and a scruffy looking blonde haircut. He sports a deep maroon suit and skinny jeans, contrasting his navy blue dress shirt underneath and light blue bow tie. His facial features resembled that of a young frontiersman, worn but retaining its youth. In his mind, The Doctor rolls his eyes as he steps up to the young man, twiddling his bow tie.

"A psy-kinetic link between two organic beings via a conscious based chrono-loop powered by a captured Dalon energy dispersal," The Doctor grumbles. "Typical. By the way, nice bow tie...Now get me out of these restraints! I need to find out who shot that gun!"

The young man cocks his head to the side. He paces, putting a hand to his chin and shaking his head.

"Mate, I thought you did it," the young man shrugs. "I really did. I thought..."

"Really now?" The Doctor interrupts. "Would an assassin gloat over his victim's body? And if I did have a weapon I'm sure you would've seen it."

"Hm. I see. Well, whatever. I best get you out of that rope," the man sighs. "But I regret to inform, mate. You've been automatically sentenced to ten years just for touching the body...Regulation number twelve, subsection twenty under the Act of Presidential Demise."

The Doctor slams a hand onto his subconscious face. How can he investigate the homicide of the greatest president to ever live if he was in jail? He gets an idea.

"But, how can an inspector inspect if said inspector doesn't have a chance to inspect since he is imprisoned by a fellow inspector?" The Doctor grins, circling the teen like a shark.

"An inspector? Which division are you from then, mate?" The blonde beams.

"Erm, uh," The Doctor mumbles, reaching into his pocket and revealing a sort of wallet. He was goad things that were on his person don't move in his mind. "See?"

"All people who hold power here on Ghaladesh have a basic knowledge of psychic telemetry."

The Doctor pauses. No other beings in this corner of the universe have that as a regulation. Not just yet. He remembers, long ago, the people who did have that sort of regulation amongst their people. The Timelord, with weary, subconscious hands, rubs his temples, thinking what his current situation is.

"Basic psychic telemetry studies and alien technology used by a human," The Doctor mumbles, pausing his pacing around the young man, stopping right back in front of him. "Might I ask who you are?"

"That'd be classified information for a man such as yourself, Doctor."

Doctor. This young man did know of him. The Doctor, the man who travelled through time and space, reaching across the universe and saving and destroying. Maybe this man just knew of him from legend or myth. This man cannot possibly have known about him unless he had something he was hiding, which was apparent, even in The Doctor's mind. Then, as if by some godly force, the darkness within The Doctor's mind lights up with various symbols and writings, superbly ancient and worn. The writings of The Beast. The texts of Ancient Skaro and Telos. The Databanks of Mondas. The Letters and Books of Rassilon. Those passed by the Doctor and the young man, whizzing past them, some transcending through their bodies. The facets of different people in The Doctor's life zoom in and out, materializing and dematerializing in and out of consciousness. The memories of past companions fly by, as if the man had induced a sort of road trip upon The Doctor's mind. Susan. Sarah Jane. The Brigadier. Perry. Ace. Rose. Martha. Donna. Wilfred. The Ponds. River. All of them looked right at The Doctor as he was now, looking at him with hope and happiness in their eyes, knowing that their Doctor had given them a true and wonderful life. This, instead of happiness, caused The Doctor to cringe in despair. He was there at The Brigadier and Sarah Jane's funeral's, looking at the faces that once brought him happiness. He had chances to say goodbye to them, a proper, well deserved goodbye.

A beam of energy dissipates the shadows of the past, the man having induced the darker side of The Doctor's mind. The screams and tortuous blares of millions and millions of Daleks boom within the Timelord's brain, reminding him of the suffering he had to endure. The marching of Cybermen ravaged through his consciousness. They all paled in comparison to the very beings that caused him to drive the ultimate sacrifice. Rassilon's voice rings in the many symbols and imagery, the young man staring at all of them as The Doctor endured, still thinking of what he was about to do. The man witnesses the Nightmare Child devouring millions of innocents, the Could've Been King unleashing his armies of Meanwhiles and Never Were's. The Skaro Degregations invading Arcadia, furthering their Emperor's ambitions. Omega's resurrection, wreaking havoc amongst the fields of a majestic deep red planet. The revived Sutekh's grand masterplan to eradicate life on that planet. This all flashed by as the man watched, completely amazed by what was happening.

"These are a thousand year's worth of memories," The Doctor smiles. "A thousand years of running, tears and happiness. A thousand years of exterminations, genocides and warfare. At times it feels like it's only been fifty years. But of all of those years, a few have been dedicated to a certain organization."

"U.N.I.T, I presume?"

"No, the one where you're from. Torchwood."

The blonde stares brightly at the Timelord. He smiles warmly, coming up to The Doctor and giving him a hug, unsuspected and unheard of but nonetheless The Doctor hugged him back. It was only courteous.

"Now your name?" The Doctor says.

"Vale Undecem Harkness," the blonde smiles. "Senior officer of the Ghaladesian Branch of the Torchwood Institute."

"Harkness? Wait, are you Jack's son?" The Doctor beams back. "Or...one of them..."

The lights in The Doctor's mind suddenly black out and so does he. The image of the young man disappears into the darkness, and is replaced by light. A different sort of light that was almost tangible. The Doctor grasps at it. Grasps. His hands were free. He laughs, smiling to himself has his eyes adjust to the light. It was soon shadowed by what seemed to be an energy field refracting the light, bending it towards's The Doctor's face. He groans as he lifts his body from the cold stone ground. He reaches for his back pocket, finding nothing within.

"Sorry, Doctor," Vale murmurs, his body leaning against the metal wall that was outside the room the Timelord was in. "Had to take your Screwdriver from you. Everything you possessed is now under Torchwood's hold."

"Last time I had an encounter with Torchwood, you lot weren't the big militaristic thing that you are now," The Doctor grumbles. "You were undercover. Secret. A small group."

"That was, until Dad resigned."

"Resigned? What for?" The Doctor said in a confused tone, but inside his head he thought that he finally had an answer to one question.

"The Boeshane Peninsula was invaded by the Vagabonds. Said he had to protect his homeland. Never heard from him since. That was over twenty years ago and Torchwood has branched out to all seven galaxies, having entire armies at their disposal and holding great political power."

"Vagabonds? Those things went extinct millennia ago after they were devoured by the Racnoss. And why invade Boeshane? And why am I in a centi-lock prison cell?"

"We captured a few and interrogated them. Said that other species that died out years ago survived and it was because of 'The Darkness that cloaked them from destruction'...and well Doctor. You're a highly dangerous man."

"How so?"

"People still think you killed President O'Donnell, remember?"

"Oh, right. Going to do anything about that?" The Doctor cheekily shrugs, crossing his fingers.

"Sorry, Doctor," Vale sighs. "I may have power but I'm not the highest authority here. Well I'll bid you good night. Get some rest. You'll need it for tomorrow."

"Wait, where's my TARDIS?"

"Under our supervision. It's okay for now, Doctor."

* * *

"_See? He is incarcerated. He cannot bring forth what is to come."_

_"Yet he always has his way. He shall find a way."_

_"He cannot. He is trapped. Nowhere to run. Now come. We have the Solstice to attend to."_

_"If we survive the wraths of the many."_

* * *

"This is for victory!" Rassilon's voice echoes through the ruins of Arcadia. "For the end of the Time War!"

The Lord President reaches for the Cruciform, his fingers almost wrapped upon its hilt. His manic eyes stare at the object, his Cheshire Cat smile growing as he feels the power of the divine object. Then, a searing pain upon his back. A Dalek, The God of all Daleks, fires an incapacitating beam of energy against the Lord President.

"Indeed, Rassilon," it booms. "Today, the Daleks reign supreme."

* * *

Daybreak. Well, it was when the alarms sounded, signalling daybreak. Then again, it was always daytime upon this side of Ghaladesh. The orbiting star always brought about a century of light and prosperity upon a side of the world below. The Doctor groans, his body aching from the overwhelmingly rough prison bed he had to sleep on. His ancient back creaks as he stretches it, moving his arms and legs around. Letting out a yawn, he moves to straighten his ever famous bow tie. It isn't there. He looks down in utter confusion until he remembers something.

Looking towards a corner of the room he spots his usual clothing within a sort of glass cube and sighs, "Right. Prison clothes."

The Timelord looks down upon the demeaning light teal, plain wear he had to sport for his time here. He looks to his chest, over one of the hearts he had. He was now Prisoner #64771, a letdown from his usual name. But beggars, or in this case prisoners, can't be choosers. The energy fuelled door keeping the Timelord incarcerated dissipates, and he moves out of his cramped cell and out into the open. He moves right, through a narrow corridor where other high level prisoners were kept. There were no others behind him, nor were here any in front. They let prisoners out one by one. The Doctor gulps as the other creatures stare at the Timelord with menacing eyes, some with chattering mouthparts, some with multiples eyes and heads.

He turns his head to see many other creatures and wild beings. A Sontaran stares at him, a maliciousness in his eyes. A Silurian appears and disappears without trace within its cell. A quite tall, evil looking bearded man growls, dark amber eyes staring at the scrawny looking Timelord. He shakes off their stares as he continues down the hall and into a much more open place. The Mess Hall. Here, prisoners from different parts of the complex gather around, talk as if they were the best of friends but to the pale, creepy eyed, humanoid guards they were always up to no good. The Doctor moves in with the gathering crowds as he is paired with a guard and sent down to meet the masses albeit roughly as the pale being prods him with an electrified baton. Blending in with the other humanoids, despite his guard sentry, The Doctor shuffles closer and closer to the front of the crowd waiting for breakfast. At last, after what seemed like ages, even to a Timelord, he gets to the front of the line as he picks up a tray and moves it first in front of a machine which delivers a chunky, brown, slimy ooze with bits of what seemed like vegetables onto the main compartment of the tray. Then he moves towards a more lively part of the concession, seeing a familiar face. The Ood nods in a gesture of friendship. The Doctor in turn smiles, holding out his tray as the Ood places upon it a blue yolked egg. The one beside it places slices of actual bacon, something that looked edible, but something The Doctor despised ever since his regeneration. He leans over to the Ood, motioning it to come close.

"Do you mind telling me your designation?" The Doctor smiles.

"I am Ood Epsilon, Prisoner 64771," the Ood gestures with its glowing communications orb.

"Thank you, Ood Epsilon. Just checking on you lot, though I thought you were free of slavery?"

"The Ood are free, Prisoner 64771, but we are a nonviolent race that seeks to aid others. We are merely helping those who are in need."

"Ah, so these prisoners?"

"And you, Doctor. And this planet. And the shadow that will soon cover the world..."

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry, sir. There was a disturbance within my communication device. Would you please keep moving?"

The guard prods The Doctor with the electrified baton once more, pushing him towards the tables while thinking about what the Ood had said. The pale skinned creature moves the thousand year old man to an occupied table and seats him there along with other prisoners. They all stare at the newcomer as the guard moves away, having done his duty for now. There were a total of seven sitting around the rectangular table.

There was a tall, thin limbed creature that resembled a spider mixed with a bloodthirsty hound. Its canine maw opened and closed with every breath, ears perked and six eyes staring directly at the Timelord, another six staring at its food. Another was a robotic creature with tubes running in and out of its neck and into its gas masked mouth. Glass covered eyes shine as a blue skinned Rexacoricorfallopatorian stares at it, and back at the Timelord, and towards the others. A Hath with a scar upon one eye bubbles calmly, staring at the inedible food underneath its head, two young men at the head of the table, both with wings upon their backs stared. One upon the right had rather demonic wings, scaly and blood red membraned, completing his rather devilish look with his hair covering one side of his face, a crimson eye staring at the Timelord. The other was angelic, with feathery wings and snow white locks. Calm, blue eyes stare at The Doctor, as if staring into his weary, darkened soul, the colour reminding him of his lost companion: The TARDIS. He sits, right across the two heads of the table, a waft of nervousness immediately surging through him as the robotic creature croons.

"Designate," it monotonously sings.

"E...Excuse me?" The Doctor says, confused as ever.

"Gystoroid want information," the spider like creature crirps. "Gystoroid ask puny human. What designation?"

"Oi, I'm not human!" The Doctor defends himself. "That's disgusting and quite frankly very rude, you got that?"

The spider like creature merely shrugs The Doctor off as the robotic being croons once more, its monotonic hum encircling the Timelord's ears.

"Designate yourself," the being hums. "I shall begin. I am Admiral Venox of the 17th Gystoroid Armada. I have been in captivity for three years.

"General-Supreme Kaal'thek of the Vagabonds. Been here ten months," the tall, arachnid/canine hybrid creature chitters. "Hath is Dromeus, close compatriot."

"I am Reth Don-Zatch Ultitheen, head of the Ultitheen family," the Rexacoricorfallopatorian croaks. "I have been locked up in this prison for...six years."

"And of you?" The Gystoroid hums.

"The Doctor, just the Doctor. A child of Gallifrey, the last Timelord, Lord President, the Oncoming Storm, the Destroyer of Worlds, the Wrath at the Heart of Suns, the Beast, Abbadon, Omega's Keeper, Protector of the Universe, Grand General of the Shadow Proclamation, the Darkness. Take your pick," The Doctor smirks. "And I've only been here a day."

"Gallifrey? Land of gold and jewels?" The Vagabond chitters excitedly, its eyes drawing from its food to The Doctor.

"That would be Voga," The Doctor sighs. "Not as majestic if I say so myself. Gallifrey was magnificent..."

"The last Timelord?" The Ultitheen croaks halfheartedly. "A madman if I say so myself."

"Says the one whom I spared from the last Cyber Invasion of Rexacoricorfallopatiorius. Ah, the things I can tell you all and you would all think I'm mad. Well, technically. Two hearts, superior intellect and a hell of a great looking body. It's bloody brilliant. Heh. Never going back there..."

"You said you were The Darkness, Doctor?" the demonic being says in a sultry, seductive voice. "What do you know of Darkness?"

"Oh, finally you talk. Who are you two anyways? I mean I know the Ulitheen, and Jack's son caught me up on the Vagabonds. The Gystoroid Empire's been one of my favourites to visit as a kid so they are well acquainted with me...but you two, I don't know, which is a first."

"You shall get your answer once you answer my question. What do you know of Darkness, Doctor?"

"Okay then...I do know darkness. I know that whenever I try and save something, when I try to actually do something good, it goes to dust and nothingness. It's a never ending cycle of life and death for me. Sometimes I'd think I control it but in reality it's not me but the forces beyond that control it. It's always going to be dark for me in the end...there have been dreams. Dreams of the darkest time of my lives..."

"Incorrect," the dark being growls. "That is not the Darkness. The true Darkness. You are not it."

"What?"

"The Ood are already showing signs of control. Ghaladesh is already starting to falter, breaking at its seams. The Darkness is truly coming, Doctor. Light and darkness shall wage a war and only one shall reign supreme over this world."

"What is the Darkness, then?" The Doctor grits his teeth, hoping for another lead to the President's death.

"Finding out shall result in your demise, Timelord," the light being softly says. "It shall lead you to the depths of Ghaladesh, and the end of everything."

"Been there, done that."

"If you wish," the dark being snidely smirks. "Well now that you've answered me, I shall answer you. We are the Eternal Thieves. We are the heart of this planet. We have been here since the Last Great World War. We have fought and suffered."

The Doctor raises an eyebrow, the speaker switching to the lighter man's higher, almost feminine voice. He calmly speaks as the darkened being motions for the other creatures to leave.

"And we waited, swearing to protect the planet where we once called home," the man says angelically. "We waited for the one who would lead this planet out of catastrophe and into bliss and peace. That, would be you."

* * *

"_They speak of him, Consul."_

_"Even within the trap he starts to move against us."_

* * *

"Me?" The Doctor says, not completely surprised. "Why me?"

"The last of one species shall overcome the last of another," the angelic man croons. "Order will be restored back into...into...they know."

"Into what? Who knows?!" The Doctor yells, his voice echoing out, topping off the other prisoners'. "What do you mean?!"

"The State of Good Order...the government," the demonic one growls. "Corrupt and selfish, they never give back to the billions in crisis."

"They aren't corrupt!"

"Then why did they imprison you?" the young man smirks. "Why did they imprison you when they know you did not kill 'President' O'Donnell? Why are they trying to stop you from the greater good?"

"Are you saying that the most peaceful and generous government is out to get me?"

"Precisely."

"And I thought I was mad."

"We tell the truth, Doctor," the angelic man sighs. "Killing O'Donnell was a sacrifice. He was a good man in his heart and he shall be welcomed into Trenzelore above."

"You killed him..."

"A sacrifice. The needs of the many, outweigh the needs of the few, Doctor. If I was to quote an Old Earth movie."

"No! Everyone has a right to live and who are the both of you to decide that?"

"We are the ones who protect Ghaladesh. We are the ones who shall save you, Doctor, and let fate take its course. It already has played its own hand. The government moves against you and us, Doctor. O'Donnell has been killed eleven times before."

"Eleven?!"

"Clones, Doctor. Clones," the angelic man coos. "Technology stolen from the Sontarans when they joined in the last years of the war. Humanity used them to rejuvenate lost soldiers and now they are using it to corrupt a good, orderly government."

"But that's insane!"

"We shall show you then, Doctor..." The demonic man smirks. He stands, ripping off his prison uniform, fully revealing a well dressed person complete with black suit and tie. The other stands as well, doing the same, only with white clothing. Opposites. The demon man raises his hand. He snaps his fingers.

The Vagabond howls in a frenzy, the other creatures within the prison immediately following the monster's order and fly into a rage. They start to throw and hit objects, creating chaos and destruction as the two beings gently hold The Doctor by his hands and flap their wings in unison, lifting the thousand year old Timelord off the ground, albeit to his constant protest. The Vagabond rams against a wall, breaking it and letting the two winged being out, dragging the Timelord with them.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

**So** **since I started to write this, I've heard that Matt is leaving this Christmas, John Hurt is an incarnation...and after Christmas, we'll have to wait a while until Series 8. THIS IS MADNESS!**


End file.
